Showing posts with label theodicy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theodicy. Show all posts

Friday, April 22, 2011

Friday April 22 2011 - My Lord My God is Crucified

The context of this service is an ecumenical Good Friday service in the Chapel of a large teaching hospital.

The texts are John 18 - 19

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People

It was the people in this story that struck me as I read the text. All the different kinds of people – a whole cast of characters – with a wide range of motivations.

First we have the groups of people:
The disciples, Jesus’ closest twelve.
The Roman soldiers.
The courts of the High Priest and Pilate.
The common people lurking in the High Priest’s courtyard.
The spectators on Good Friday come for a good execution and a bit of entertainment just as people have done from time immemorial.

And then we have the individuals, too many to list now:
Jesus, of course.
Judas, the disciple and the betrayer.
Peter, who is disciple, defender AND betrayer.
And Annas (the High Priest) and Pilate. So-called “leaders” who don’t seem to be doing a lot of leading.

I don’t know about you, but as a child I was taught to read all of these events as things that happened because Jesus needed to die for my sins. So, as I sat in church on Good Friday hearing these stories, there was a kind of inevitability about it all. In the same way that I knew how the story about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs turned out, I knew the story about Jesus praying in Gethsemane, judged by the High Priest and by Pilate and marched off to crucifixion.

It never really occurred to me that, in some very real sense, these events occurred because a number of people – both groups and individuals – made free choices. Free choices which led human beings to execute the Son of God. And as today’s reading reminded us, Jesus didn’t call down legions of angels to fight the legions of Caesar. He left the events of human history to the consequences of human actions.

Jesus died because an angry mob was looking for a scapegoat.
He died because the rulers of the subjugated people were frightened and thought it was better for one man to die than for the nation to suffer.
He died because the official representative of the Empire didn’t have the courage to do what he knew in his heart was right.
Yes, there is a sense in which all of this had to happen. Yes, he died for our sins, but he also died because of our sins.

The choices made by individuals over 2000 years ago killed Jesus. But I don’t think we’re off the hook. Unless any one of us can truly say that we would never be so frightened as to permit our government use individuals as scapegoats. That we would never give up one of our group in order that the group might survive. That we would never sacrifice another person on the altar of expediency. The human choices that were made by those individuals 2000 years ago are choices that we ourselves are very capable of making. And those choices killed Jesus.

Death

The other thing that struck me in reading this text was that it is a story about the death of a human being.

Of course, the Christian tradition affirms that Jesus was the Son of God, true God and true human being. But he was a human being. And I think that, historically, Christians have tended to forget this.

Often we tend to see Jesus as a kind of a Superhero, who shared all the qualities of God but was only masquerading as a human being. But the Passion story is also a story about a very human Jesus: a man who made sure that his mother would be looked after, a man who was thirsty, a man who looked death in the face and gave up his spirit.

And this particular human death reminded me of the deaths of other human beings that sadly happen here in the hospital, despite all the prayers and wishes of the people who love these individuals. Despite all the best efforts, choices and work by the medical staff here. Deaths that sadly sometimes happen despite all our best choices. And just like Jesus had all these different people surrounding him at the time of his death, so too do families often gather at the death of a loved one.

And that reminded me once again that, as a Christian, I believe in an incarnate God: a God who took on human form. Christianity does not tell us that we humans are a lower form of life who have to work very hard to rise up to the level of the divine. Christianity tells us that, by divine grace, God became embodied like us. Christianity tells us that, if we have seen Jesus, we have seen not only the invisible God but we have also seen who we are truly created to be as heirs to the New Creation.

Although the Christian church tends to talk about the Incarnation at Christmas, I think that here in this hospital we need the incarnate God – true God and true human – even more on Good Friday. When we see individuals facing times of pain, illness, trauma and death it’s good remind ourselves that God had a body. As human beings, we all need the Jesus who understood physical human suffering and who did not evade it.

This – embodied, suffering Christ – is The One who we need to be by our side when we are gravely ill and suffering. The embodied Christ is the One we need when we begin to wonder if God is so far off that God has no idea what we’re going through. On Good Friday, we are reminded that God became incarnate not just as a little baby but also as the Suffering Servant.

Conclusion

Today is Good Friday. I regret if you think I’ve spoken too much about death. Because, of course, we know the end of “The Jesus Story” and it’s not ultimately about death. The story of Jesus’ mission is ultimately about resurrection, about New Birth and New Life and a new Reign of God.

And Easter, of course, is the source of the sure and certain hope that we have in Christ.

But I do want to urge all of us not to jump too far ahead. As a devotion, let’s linger a bit at the events of Good Friday.

Let’s remember that human choices – the sort that we are all capable of making – put Jesus on the cross. And let’s remember to that Jesus also freely chose his suffering. A suffering which somehow unites God and humanity in a new and lasting coventental relationship. But a suffering that Jesus chose because of his deep and abiding faith that, ultimately in the final analysis, death does not dwell where God dwells.

This is the ultimate source of the Christian hope. This is the hope of Good Friday that points us toward the hope of Easter Sunday.

As we commemorate the death of Jesus this afternoon, I pray that the hope that we have in the embodied, crucified and resurrected Jesus will be with us all. Amen

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Sunday 8 February 2009 - Healer of the World

This sermon is based on Mark 1:29-39 and Isaiah 40:21-31

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Introduction

This past July, the BBC ran a special documentary programme celebrating the 60th anniversary of the creation of the NHS. Whilst I expect that there might be people in the congregation this morning who can remember the creation of the NHS (but, of course, only as very small children!) I found the programme fascinating. Particularly as a lover of history and as a foreigner.

I was by no means surprised to learn that the British Medical Association initially opposed the formation of the NHS. But I was surprised to find out that the NHS was actually conceived of and implemented within what seemed like a very short space of time. (18 months?)

One of the stories I found interesting was the account of the number of people who flocked to their local doctor's office on the day the NHS began. If I remember the programme correctly, the number of people with untreated medical conditions who presented themselves at doctors' surgeries far exceeded the NHS's pre-opening estimates.

There were far more people than anyone had previously imagined living with chronic medical conditions that they could not afford to have treated. For example, there were people living with enormous hernias. One of the most heart-breaking accounts was the large estimate of the number of children who had previously died with appendicitis whilst their parents treated their bad tummy aches with castor oil because there was no question of being able to afford to take their child to the doctor.

One of the most heart-warming accounts was that of a receptionist in a doctors' surgery who told stories of patients bringing presents to the surgery for the first few years of the NHS - so amazed and delighted were people to finally have access to health treatment.

Everyone was yearning for healing.

Jesus - Healer of the World

In this morning's Gospel reading, we are being put on notice that Jesus is the healer of the world.

This is is the second miracle story in the Gospel of Mark.

We heard the first story last week - the story of the casting out of the demon in the Synagogue. Last week, you might say we had a healing of the mind. This week, we have a healing of the body. And a little bit further on in the Gospel of Mark, we will have a healing of the spirit when Jesus forgives the sins of the paralytic.

But Jesus' ministry is not going to be settling down in Capernaum and setting up shop as a healer and a wise man, even though the presence of the crowds indicates that Jesus could make quite a pleasant living that way.

Jesus takes time out from the demands of the crowd to pray and he comes back convinced that travelling and preaching are also part of his calling and his ministry. His calling is not just the healing of individuals, but also the healing of the world.

And his ministry is going to be an unconventional one.

Ultimately, it will be a scandal, because the healing of the world will come not through the creation of world peace and harmony. Rather the healing of the world will come through a death on a cross.

God the Redeemer

The good news of Jesus Christ that Mark proclaims in his Gospel is the same good news that the Church has proclaimed since the first Easter Sunday. It is the same good news that helped the people of Israel to keep the faith in exile in Babylon: The Good News is that God is our healer and our Redeemer as well as our Creator.

This has been the witness of the people of God down through the ages: that God will save and heal his people and his creation.

Sometimes stories of miraculous healings like that of Simon's mother-in-law can be difficult to hear, particularly for those of us - and I expect we're the majority rather than the minority - who know someone who could do with a miraculous healing right now.

And I don't have any easy answers for us about the problem of pain and suffering or why some people recover from illness and others do not.

What I can do, however, is point us all to this morning's reading from Isaiah and say: 'These people knew what it meant to suffer. They knew what it meant to be homeless, rootless, without inheritance and without hope. They knew what it meant to feel abandoned by God but still they professed their trust in God's faithfulness.'

If Mark's story sounds a bit too much to modern ears like it is asking us to believe in a God who waves a magic wand and makes all pain and suffering go away, then the story of the exile in Isaiah should reassure us that the core of our faith is not based on magic tricks.

The faith professed in Isaiah is not the faith of a people whose God has magically made everything better. Rather it is the faith of a suffering people who nonetheless believe that the Lord will renew their strength until they are no longer weary.

Ultimately, Mark will reveal that the unconventional thing about Jesus' story is that he will not save Israel by healing everyone. He will not save Israel by putting peace in the hearts of humanity nor will he save Israel by making it immortal.

What is unconventional and unexpected about the story of Jesus is that he is going to save the world by dying himself. This is at the heart of the scandal of the cross: that Jesus heals us from sin, death and the power of evil not by obliterating them but by entering into them himself.

Our hope lies in Jesus not because he makes suffering go away, but because he enters into human suffering.

Conclusion

Everyone yearns for healing.

Some of us here may be praying for a kind of healing for ourselves or our loved ones and the answers to our prayers will not be as we hope.

But I believe that God nonetheless offers a kind of healing that is appropriate for each person. And I believe that God has promised that, ultimately, his kingdom will come and that his whole creation will be healed.

My prayer for each of us this morning is that we may be given the eyes to see the healing that God makes available for each of us and our loved ones. And I pray that, like Israel in exile, we will be given the strength to wait with joy and expectation for the coming of God's Kingdom. Amen

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Sunday 28 December 2008 - God in the Mess

I couldn't preach this morning and ignore what has happened in Gaza this weekend with over 250 people dead. The sermon is based on the Gospel reading from the Common Worship Lectionary rather than from the Revised Common Lectionary. Luke 2:15-21

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The Messiah Has Come

In today's Gospel reading, we hear once again the end of Luke's story of Christmas. There have been miraculous appearances by angels, there have been shepherds and there have been hymns of praise, both earthly and celestial. Everything in Luke's narrative points to Jesus as the Messiah so that the reader is left in no doubt as to who Jesus is or what his significance is.

And, finally, when the momentous events have been accomplished and the shepherds and the angels have departed, Mary is left to ponder all of these events in her heart.

Then the next thing that happens in Luke's narrative is the circumcision of Jesus. Luke is affirming yet again the status of Jesus as the Messiah, the one through whom God's promises to the human race are to be fulfilled. Circumcision is a sign of God's covenant promise with his people.

Listen to what a modern Jewish rabbi has to say about the rite of circumcisions as an expression of God's covenant and what that means[1]:
'There will come a time when all human beings will live in full dignity and freedom....The covenant is that bond through which God and the Jewish people dream together and work together toward an alternative reality, a world in which human dignity is real and the presence of God is manifest.'

Other Mothers

Over the last week or so during the season of Christmas, we have been hearing stories of shepherds and lambs and wise men and gifts and mothers and babies. And our young ones have been acting in nativity plays; and the week of Christmas has been a time for celebrations and feasting and maybe a bit too much activity as well.

And I can't help but think that against this backdrop of our celebrations, the ceasefire between Israel and Gaza has fallen apart in the last fortnight and hundreds of people in the region of the Holy Land have been killed this weekend.

I don't want to take sides or appear to take sides. The current violence has a long and complicated history and there is always more than one side to any conflict. But as I was thinking about Mary's ponderings and her hopes for her own child, I came across the stories of two other mothers in the Holy Land.

The first story is Hava's{2]. A Jewish mother of three in a town called Sderot. On the 19th of December she said:
'A rocket landed 10 metres from my house last week. The ceasefire may have officially ended today, but in reality it was over long before that. I don't feel protected here, not at all. I hope that Israel does go into Gaza even if citizens there get hurt. Because here in Sderot we are getting hurt. Life is very difficult. We have my husband's salary from the bed factory here in Sderot, but it's barely enough. I am sure there are simple citizens like me in Gaza, who want nothing but to wake up in the morning, go to work and take care of the children. But if I have to choose between my son or someone else's son, I choose my son.'

...And what mother wouldn't?

The second story is Mirvat's[3], a Palestinian mother who lives in the Gaza. Her family was caught in the crossfire of a gun-battle between Israeli soldiers and Palestinian militants. Whilst taking cover in their own living room with her five children, her oldest son and daughter, aged 18 and 17 were killed by snipers when they accidentally moved into the snipers' view.  Mirvat said:
'We feel like there is no reason to live any more....'We have to talk to the other side, we have to have peace, so that we can all - us and them - live safely.'

And what mother wouldn't want to live in safety with her children?

Christ our Saviour

So here we have the ponderings of three mothers: From Scripture, the pondering of Mary on Jesus' Messiahship and what that might ultimately mean. And from our world, the pondering of two mothers in an imperfect and dangerous world who are afraid for their children and their future.

Jesus came to the world as the Prince of Peace and yet it appears that we have no peace. In such circumstances, talk of a world in which human dignity is real and the presence of God is manifest can sometimes seem hollow and unreal.

The Christmas image of the baby in the manger may be a sweet picture, but ultimately the message of Christmas is not meant to be charming or bucolic. The message of Christmas is that God is in this messy world with us. And that he is here in fact as well as in Spirit.

The baby lying in that crib at Christmas will ultimately share the everyday sorrows of human life as well as all its everyday joys. But Jesus will also experience the worst that human life has to offer: betrayal, humiliation, shame and a painful, violent death. His last words will be words of forgiveness and his last act will unite us with God and with God's forgiveness forever. And his resurrection will be a sign that God is a God who is completely alive and without reference to death.

The message of Christmas is ultimately a message of hope, but is not a saccharine or unreal hope, but a gritty hope born out of the worst that humanity can do.

When human beings suffer at the hands of others and can still forgive, then we recognise the human dignity of those who hurt us and we access a dignity in ourselves that can only come from the Spirit of God. And when we we suffer randomly at the hands of life's circumstances, it is God's Spirit that gives us the strength to continue in hope.

Conclusion

The beauty of the incarnation does not lie in the sweetness of one newborn child. The beauty of the incarnation lies in the fact that God's salvation came through the reality of this world and through the reality of Jesus' humanity. Salvation does not come because human beings are removed from the world but because God has come into the world.

As we come to The Lord's Table in a few minutes, I pray that we, like Mary, will ponder the mystery of the incarnation in our hearts. And I pray that we will not only ponder this mystery but that we will trust in God's promises and that we will and pray and work for a world where all mothers dare to hope for a future of peace on earth for their children. Amen

Footnotes

[1] Rabbi Shai Held at: http://www.myjewishlearning.com/lifecycle/Ceremonies_For_Newborns/Overview_Contemporary_Issues/The_Circumcision_Debate/A_Difficult_Rite.htm Accessed 27 December 2008
[2] BBC Website, 15:13 GMT, Friday 19 December 2008. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7791522.stm Accessed 27 December 2008.
[3} BBC Website 15:54 GMT, Thursday 18 December 2008. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7790255.stm Accessed 27 December 2008.